Dragon Ball Roshi

Uncertain about the situation inside the Kaioshin's training chamber, the Grand Kai initially waited outside the door at the end of the temporal corridor for a day or two. When nothing happened, he left.

Emerging from his house filled with temporal anomalies, the Grand Kai immediately noticed that the short, chubby King Kai was still loitering around. Annoyed, he scolded the King Kai for neglecting his duties in the North Galaxy. The King Kai weakly pointed toward Hathaway, who was engrossed in work at a computer in a distant pavilion, and defended himself by saying he was merely staying to take care of a friend's family.

Conveniently, the Grand Kai handed over the task of looking after Hathaway to the lazy King Kai.

And so...

One carried a stereo around, singing loudly.

Another lay on the grass, counting ants all day.

The third sat in front of a computer, working tirelessly.

Each of them did their own thing while waiting for the one who had gone off to train.

The Grand Kai was curious about Taro's progress.

The King Kai stayed out of loyalty to his friend.

As for Hathaway, her concern was, of course, for her husband.

In the blink of an eye, twenty-one years passed.

The King Kai watched as time flowed by, observing Taro's wife slowly but unmistakably age. The changes were subtle, nearly imperceptible to mortals. But the King Kai was no ordinary being; he could see it clearly. Hathaway was truly aging.

On the Grand Kai's planet, there were no resources for skincare or beauty treatments. Over the past twenty-one years, Hathaway had remained makeup-free and exposed to computer radiation daily. If not for her natural beauty, she might have already looked like a tired, middle-aged woman.

Even with the presence of two deities, neither the Grand Kai nor the King Kai had the power to grant mortals eternal youth or extended life.

Twenty years spent immersed in endless lines of code in front of a monitor — it was a strain that no amount of natural beauty could withstand. Hathaway's face had begun to show faint wrinkles. By earthly reckoning, it was now Era 638, and Hathaway had just turned fifty.

On sleepless nights, she would occasionally set aside her work, gazing silently into the distance, lost in thought.

The Grand Kai's planet enjoyed eternal warmth, with no concept of winter or summer, no changing seasons. There was no sunrise or sunset, no stars or moon, and thus no distinction between day and night.

Yet Hathaway often thought about the changing seasons and the alternating days and nights in another faraway place — because that was where her child lived.

"Twenty-one years had passed. Little Tam must now be twenty-nine years old."

"How is he doing?"

"Nearly thirty... He should be a mature man by now."

But in Hathaway's mind, her son was still the little boy she had left behind.

"I'm sorry I couldn't watch you grow up, bit by bit" Hathaway often thought to herself with a trace of melancholy while gazing at the perpetually clear sky of the Grand Kai's planet.

In such moments, one might expect tears, but Hathaway never cried.

She had anticipated this situation twenty-one years ago when she made her decision.

She had no regrets.

The knowledge stored in that laptop — Little Tam would surely make good use of it. The groundbreaking technologies she left behind — on computer hardware and software, global internet systems, personal mobile communication devices, and more — were stored in a form that couldn't be erased or copied. They remained in the laptop she had given to Tam.

That should be enough to create a bright future for him.

Her child was clever and resourceful. Mischievous at times, but precocious. He wasn't perfect, but in many ways, he reminded Hathaway of herself as a child.

"It's good that he isn't entirely like me, she thought. Sometimes I feel like such a misfit myself."

"Who falls in love with someone they've never met, just from a painting and a book? Who throws themselves unhesitatingly into a relationship with someone they know is not mortal? What kind of mother leaves her child behind to wait in a distant, isolated world for a husband who may not return for who knows how long?"

Hathaway had spent twenty-one years on the Grand Kai's planet, cut off from the world, without a single moment of regret.

But she did miss them.

She couldn't help but feel regret.

"Would Little Tam listen to his grandparents? All these years without seeing his parents — did he cry? Did he throw tantrums? Or did he forget about us?"

"When he went to school for the first time, surrounded by so many kids his age, was he nervous? How happy was he when he got his first perfect score? Did he have a girl he liked? If he does, he should take after me." Hathaway thought. "When you meet someone you like, you must be bold and go after them. Do you understand?"

"What about his teenage years? What kinds of worries would he have? Did he eat well? Take care of himself? And those opportunities created by the knowledge in the laptop I left him — did he seize them?"

It wasn't just her son that Hathaway missed. What weighed on her heart even more was her husband, who had been out of contact all this time.

"What an irresponsible man, isn't he?"

But, as she had said twenty-one years ago, she could live without a child, but not without him.

After all, who asked this man to barge into her life so unreasonably when she was just a little girl? Who asked her to have a memory so sharp that she could recall everything since she was small? Who asked her to be so intelligent that she never fit in with her peers? Who asked for that man's presence — his painting, his words — to occupy her entire childhood? Who asked for his gaze to accompany her as she grew up?

Just wait.

Just wait.

---

"What are you thinking about?" King Kai glanced curiously at Hathaway.

Hathaway tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, pulling herself from her scattered thoughts. She shook her head. "Nothing." After a pause, she gestured toward the computer screen and keyboard in front of him. "Lord Kai, we can begin now."

It was a day like any other on the Grand Kai's planet — serene and peaceful, just as it had been twenty-one years ago. This place was, after all, a haven far removed from the worries and chaos of the mortal world.

Hathaway had invited King Kai to run a test — a test for the fourth-generation AI program she had developed.

Ideally, according to Hathaway's original plan, this kind of testing would require a group of testers to provide convincing results. However, being a deity, King Kai possessed a transcendental perspective and could offer an objective evaluation. Thus, he alone would conduct this test to assess the AI's intelligence.

After all, there was only one supercomputer on hand and no additional terminals available.

Pushing up his sunglasses, King Kai began typing clumsily with a single finger, following Hathaway's instructions. The large monitor immediately displayed a line of text — his input:

[Hello.]

[Hello, who are you?]

"Who am I? Interesting." King Kai muttered, then typed with his two-finger technique:

[Are you human?]

[Can't you make small talk? Aren't you human yourself?]

"Oh, it knows how to turn the tables..."

[Hmm, no, I'm not human. In fact, I'm a god.]

[Oh, hold on, let me think — which hospital has the best psychiatric department?]

[...]

...

Just as King Kai was engrossed in his banter with the AI program, the Grand Kai's voice suddenly echoed in their minds:

"He's back."

King Kai's finger slipped, puncturing the keyboard with a loud crack.

Hathaway's whole body trembled. Her eyes, as if no longer under her control, turned red, and tears began to fall uncontrollably. She quickly turned her head to look outside the pavilion.

She knew her husband could teleport. If he had returned, he would appear before her immediately.

Sure enough, as she looked out, she saw a figure on the grass.

It was a figure she hadn't seen in twenty-one years.

The sight was so familiar. His smile, calm and gentle, was just as it had been over two decades ago...

But it also felt slightly unfamiliar.

As she watched Taro approach, seeing how his appearance had aged by more than twenty years, Hathaway instinctively froze. She stood rooted to the spot, her eyes briefly flashing with a cascade of emotions — confusion, puzzlement, contemplation, understanding, grievance, sorrow, and relief.

In that fleeting moment, these emotions layered upon one another, passed quickly, and quietly disappeared into the depths of her light-colored eyes — like a mermaid retroativo into the ocean's depths.

When her husband reached the pavilion, Hathaway stepped forward, wrapped her arms around him, and softly said, "Welcome back."